


T is for Tryst

by OtakuElf



Series: YADAA (Yet Another Dragon Age Alphabet) [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Multi, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This appeared in my head and refused to go away.  Irving, and Greagoir, and Wynne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	T is for Tryst

Wynne’s appreciative moan was swallowed in Greagoir’s kiss, his neatly trimmed beard brushing her face and neck as his lips tracked a path across her cheek and down the long column of her neck next to her long straight hair, swept aside now. Behind her, Irving’s own long beard swept across her back as the First Enchanter bit and licked Wynne’s slender shoulder. Irving’s erection pressed hot and hard in the valley of Wynne’s curved buttocks. Greagoir’s hardened length rubbed against Wynne’s thigh as he crooked fingers inside her. Wynne’s body hitched forward, seeking, and then she twitched her hips back to press and slide against what Greagoir called “Irving’s enchanted staff.”

Wynne, as a senior enchanter, was well aware of her place in Kinloch Hold. She was a spirit healer, a teacher, and a longtime friend of Irving, the First Enchanter. At one point a visitor had called her “Irving’s Beard”, which had given both Wynne and Irving a much-needed laugh.

Irving, who was as likely to bed a woman as he was a man, was only occasionally interested in sex. Chantry rules regarding homosexuality or promiscuity were not valid as far as he was concerned. Mages in the Circle were not supposed to be engaged in any sexual activity at all. They did not marry and were not allowed to have families. Children - babies, really - were taken away at birth and put in a Chantry orphanage. And so restrictions on the gender of sexual partners had little to no meaning in Kinloch Hold. As a young man, Irving had been as rampantly sexual as anyone else in the Circle. Now, though, there was the stress of being the leader of the mages here. Stress tended to relieve a man of his interest in sex. Mages biding their time and bidding for power made unsatisfactory choices for liaisons.

To take a lover, any lover, was to invite accusations of favoritism. Wynne, as his healer and a senior enchanter, met with Irving fairly often. They had been lovers off and on when very much younger. Greagoir, the Knight-Commander, met with both of the mages weekly. They were, the three of them, the base organization of the tower. Over the years Wynne had found herself enjoying their talks, which usually took place in Greagoir’s quarters.

Their topics of discussion ranged from Fereldan politics - through scientific findings and arcane discoveries - to art and architecture. Topics that were generally avoided tended toward Chantry law, Circle politics, or religion. Wynne was devout; Greagoir was devout; Irving was knowledgeable, if not always faithful.

That had all changed. Now the three were lovers, and had been for years. To keep an affair of this magnitude secret from all of Kinloch Hold had taken a rigid set of rules, and the equally rigid following of those rules.

Greagoir’s fingers were replaced inside of Wynne by the thickness of Irving’s staff, pushing forward, pressing with equally sure knowledge against that precious spot inside where the Knight-Commander’s fingers had been so familiar. Wynne moaned into Greagoir’s mouth as Irving began a slow and steady thrusting. Pulling Greagoir up, Wynne began to lick and suck her way down his body until his erection was presented at her mouth. The heavily muscled man leaned against the slab of wood that was his headboard as Wynne took him inside her mouth, hot, wet, and tight with suction, her tongue gliding around the head before she swallowed him down as far as possible, her hand grasping his base, a slick thumb pressing along the bottom.

Wynne reveled in the touch of skin against skin. The bed was expansive enough for the three of them to sleep side by side. She could not imagine that actuality. Sleeping in this bed was something that only Greagoir did. Wynne had her own room, and Irving enjoyed the solitude of the First Enchanter’s quarters.

Irving leaned forward; she could feel him pressing against her with each thrust, and the hand that was not holding her hip pushed the long soft hair aside, allowing Irving to bite Wynne on the back of her long neck. The enchanters were near silent as they got closer to orgasm, but Irving’s bite set Wynne off, and she crested around him, around them both, her mouth soft and tight as Greagoir began to thrust in and pull out. Irving’s climax was explosive. His teeth marked Wynne when he came. Wynne kept her own teeth well away from Greagoir; her tongue had stopped its caressing, and she settled for swallowing more and more as he swelled inside her. With a groan, Greagoir sank one final thrust and came in Wynne’s mouth, the sound expanding much as he had within her to fill the otherwise near-silent room.

Together the three of them stretched and almost as an afterthought the two men wrapped their arms around the woman. Wynne gave a soft hum of contentment.

This was nice. This was not what Wynne had been expecting when the three of them had agreed to do this, to meet once weekly to take care of physical needs. That had started when Wynne had brought up a study on men’s prostate health several years ago.

Irving had laughed at her. “Wynne,” he had sparkled, “I cannot imagine you encouraging myself or Greagoir to schedule sex for the sake of our health.”

“Oh!” Wynne had been startled. “The study encouraged masturbation, Irving. I am afraid I was not thinking of setting you up with any of the healing staff for sex.”

Greagoir had cocked an eyebrow at her. “Ten times a month? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“It is not as though I were suggesting ten times a day, Greagoir,” Wynne had responded tartly.

Irving said thoughtfully, “I tend to point those cases to Wynne as soon as I find out about them. Hypersexuality can be as bad as a total lack of interest.”

“What about chastity?” Greagoir asked dryly.

Wynne’s response was tart. “I do not support the Chantry’s vows of celibacy for the sisters or the templars. Pretending that men and women have no sexual needs is as bad as pretending that sex will go away if we don’t think about it.”

“I believe,” Irving put in, “that there are men and women who are not interested in sex at all.”

“Not in the Kinloch Circle, in any case.” Greagoir raised an eyebrow. “Or at least not that I have heard.”

“Well, there are,” Wynne agreed. “But it is not standard. If someone is not interested in sex at all, it is their choice whether or not to engage in it. The only people I know who should be truly without a sex drive are the Tranquil. And you know we both seek to prevent abuses from occurring there.”< /p>

Greagoir went on, “In any case, I do not forbid my templars from sexual relationships outside of the Circle. It would be foolish of me to pretend that the majority of them are not heading into the Spoiled Princess on their times off. Just... not with the mages. I have enough trouble with lack of consent as it is.”

“Just no familial relationships.” Wynne raised both eyebrows.

“It does seem to be the predominant thing that desire demons use to tempt my soldiers,” Greagoir admitted. “Not so much sex as family, and a loving home life.”

Irving looked at Greagoir from under his bushy brows. “Have you been tempted so, my friend?”

Greagoir shook his head. “It is not something that I desire. I have a calling to be here, to serve the Kinloch Circle.”

Wynne startled them both. “It is something that I have been tempted with, in my time.”

They were silent for a time, wondering how to bring up that of the three of them, only Wynne had lost any possibility of knowing her own child.

“Wynne -” Greagoir started. 

She cut him off. “It was long ago, Greagoir. And no, I will not tell you the father’s name.”

“It is not my place to ask, Wynne. That was under the authority of my predecessor. It is past, and he is gone now.” Greagoir managed a calm tone in response.

Irving took a mouthful of wine. “It would be interesting, though, I must admit.”

Wynne blinked; in a spasm of grief, she had lost track of the discussion. “What would be interesting?”

Irving’s smile was conspiratorial. “To engage in regular sex for health’s sake. There would have to be strict rules, of course.”

It was Greagoir’s turn to blink. “Strict rules. What are you talking about?”

“If the three of us were to meet regularly for sex. Maker knows there are things each of us would not feel comfortable doing.” Irving was convincing, although for the record there were few things he had not at some point already done.

Greagoir stuttered, “I - I am not interested in men, Irving.”

“I was thinking,” Irving said calmly, “more of two men interested in one woman.”

Wynne began to laugh. Greagoir gave her a look - not the look of a man about to bed someone, certainly. “Greagoir and Irving, together to look after my needs, for the health of their prostates, of course.” The laughter turned to a giggle, which Greagoir realized made the woman look younger, or at least made him realize that she was younger than he and Irving.

“Surely,” Irving asked, “the Maker would not have created the female body in its capacity for multiple orgasms to limit a woman? If a man should be engaging in sex ten times a month, how many more should a woman be blessed with?”

Controlling herself, Wynne answered him, “Sadly, I have no prostate to be requiring this.”

Irving looked surprised. “Really? There are no health reasons why a woman should engage in a minimal number of sexual acts?”

“Well,” Wynne admitted, “theoretically a woman going through menopause should enjoy two climaxes a month to prevent heat flashes. Not really the same thing, though.”

Greagoir was still looking stunned, but he found himself saying, “That does not seem quite fair, does it?”

Wynne raised an eyebrow at him. “I do not have that excuse, Greagoir. Menopause is not for several more years for me.”

Irving topped all the wine glasses from the bottle on the table. “It still does not seem fair to suggest that a woman should have less in the way of physical joy than a man.”

Greagoir shot him a look. “Obviously you have not been much outside of the Tower, Irving. There are many men who would disagree with you. Women are expected to be either chaste or discreet. Men may enjoy whatever they find wherever is, again, discreet. Kinloch Hold has a good deal of sex going on that would not be tolerated in most communities.”

“All that sex,” Irving said slyly, “even among the Chantry’s templars. And the three of us are getting none of it. Sounds very unhealthy to me.”< /p>

Wynne asked dryly, “How long would it go before feelings got involved? Before jealousy reared its head?”

Irving argued, “That is why there would need to be rules. A clear understanding of what we were about before we started. First of all, it would need to be the three of us, together. Not you with me, or you with Greagoir.”

“Feelings always enter into it, Irving,” was Wynne’s response.

“Well, of course feelings would enter into it.” Irving stifled the obvious pun. “Sex is an intimacy. As friends, we - the three of us - already care about each other. No matter what it may look like, what we may offer to the world and our community. How would that change at all? We share things here and present a united face to the world.

“Or,” he added, shooting a look at Greagoir, “we present the image of division, where often times there is little or none. It has been useful.”

Greagoir’s swallow was obvious. Irving kept a smirk to himself at the thought that the Knight-Commander was actually considering the idea.

“Greagoir has taken vows, Irving,” Wynne put in, as Greagoir had not. “And to state that he needs to set them aside for the sake of his health would be specious at best.”

Irving nodded at his counterpart. “Greagoir has taken a vow of chastity. But he also has the authority to release any of his templars from their vows should he so choose. Of course, it would not be the same for him. He would require the consent of his superior in the order.”

“Please do not talk about me as though I were not present,” Greagoir sputtered.

Wynne looked at him seriously. “You are the only one of the three of us who would have any reason not to consider this, Greagoir.”

“That is not precisely true, Wynne,” the Knight-Commander demurred. Their eyes were on him as he grimaced. “Templars do not take a vow of chastity. There is a rule against fraternization, of course. Even between Templars it is discouraged. 

“And you have much less to lose if an affair were discovered than I. Possibly it would be decided by the higher officers in the Templar Order that you would have used blood magic to seduce me. In which case, Aeonar would become your new home.”

“We will just have to be very careful, then,” Irving pointed out. “I, for one, do not wish Aeonar on even my worst enemy.”

“Uldred comes to mind,” Wynne muttered.

Greagoir shook his head sternly. “It is an abominable place, Wynne. Though it would not bother me all too much for Senior Enchanter Uldred to end up in a cell, it would break my heart for either you or Irving to be placed in Aeonar.”

“Now, then,” Irving went on, as though a consensus had been reached, “we just need to come up with the rules by which our trysts will be planned.”

“As though we had agreed to this, Irving. We have not. Have we, Wynne?” Greagoir sought support from a woman that he had desired for years, seeking to shore up his resistance.

Wynne gave him a saucy smile. “I don’t see why we should not. Truly, it can only do us good, Greagoir. All humans need the emotional support that intimacy provides. I wager you are as touch-starved as anyone else in the tower.”

“There are always massages from the healer corps,” Irving said. “Though they would not be as enjoyable as bedding our Wynne.”

Greagoir was not an intemperate man. Abstemious, he still could not deny that the proposal was attractive. It was not at that meeting that he had given in. Weeks later, the Knight-Commander told the two mages that he had considered the proposal at length. He had prayed on it, and read through the chant from end to end. There was, he had decided, no sin in such a connexion.

If anything, their relationships had deepened through the physical contact. They were no longer as alone as they had been when separate. And now, here they were, enjoying passion on the night before Wynne left with the other mages to join the king’s camp at Ostagar. The Maker keep her safe from war and the darkspawn. For tonight, they could give her this to keep her warm in the cold of the Korcari Wilds. The three minds prayed that Wynne would return safely to them.


End file.
